By Candlelight
by TennisWriter456
Summary: She suddenly didn't mind that the candles were going out, because her entire body at that moment felt an immense wave of warmth overcome it. She bent down and placed her lips on his forehead, then sat in her beautiful environment of warmth and watched the last candle die.


**This is just a very short oneshot I was inspired to write...because I've been in a super crazy ZeLink mood lately and really needed to write something...So, enjoy! :)**

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By Candlelight

The candles were bright enough for them to see, but dim enough to create the timid atmosphere of nighttime. They flickered softly, casting an orange glow across the room that was accompanied by gentle warmth. It spread through the air and then hung there protectively, all the while encouraging the beads of sweat accumulating on their glistening foreheads. Their hair was matted to their cheeks and their breathing was heavy, but everything was perfectly calm and the heat soothed them. It wrapped its arms around them and hugged them closely, drawing the sighs from their lips but giving them the comfort they needed so deep into the night.

They sat on the floor in the middle of the room with their legs crossed, each letting the presence of the other fill the space in between their bodies. He was staring up at the ceiling with his mouth open and his neck stretched out toward the ceiling. His eyes were closed, and his bare chest continued to rise and fall with the raspy breaths that left his cracked lips in a continuous rhythm. The light from the candles fell upon him and outlined every bone, every muscle, every scar and every bruise. She sat across from him, head bent and jaw clenched. In her lap, she held his hand and was preparing a needle. Her hair fell in damp, tangled clumps over her shoulder, but her eyes were wide and attentive and soon a thin string had been put through the needle.

For a few moments, she put the needle on the floor beside her and took his hand in both of hers. His fingers were trembling, and she could feel them tingling and pulsing every time she touched them. He still didn't open his eyes; he continued to face the ceiling, continued to exhale those hoarse breaths, and continued to squeeze handfuls of the rug with his other hand. Sweat rolled down his cheeks, down his neck, down his heaving chest. She caressed his hand but was careful, and avoided the large red gash that shined from the middle of his palm. The sticky red liquid was beginning to drip onto her dress, but she took no notice.

"Are you ready?" she whispered.

"Yes."

"It'll be quick, I promise."

"I trust you."

His voice was strained; hers, tender. She let his hand fall back into her lap and picked up the needle. He swallowed and his breathing became more uneven, with one breath slow and hoarse and the next quick and sharp. With her left hand, she cupped his hand and stroked his skin with her thumb. With her right hand, she brought the needle closer to his palm. Her breathing became a bit heavier, the sweat rolled more swiftly down her face, but her hands were still.

"I'm going to start now."

"Okay."

She squeezed his hand just a little bit more tightly before smoothly, slowly, slipping the needle into the skin of his hand. Almost instantly, he drew in a sharp breath that was loud enough to echo throughout the room. His entire body cringed, but she held on to his hand to keep it from moving even a single inch. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and the complexion of his face became red and flushed.

"Shh," she said. "You're fine."

"It hurts."

"I know." She pulled the needle up and watched with narrowed eyes as the string brought his red, torn skin together. "I know it does."

"Keep talking to me, please. It hurts so badly..."

"Shh, I know it does, darling. Make sure you don't hold your breath."

He opened his mouth and let out the breath he had been holding, along with a quiet groan. The needle had gone through his skin four times, and each time brought a new layer of pain. His eyes stung with the tears that hung on their edges.

"Tell me a story, please."

"All right. Once upon a time, there was a beautiful princess who lived in a beautiful castle."

She bit her lower lip and brought the needle through a sixth time, taking deep breaths in between the whispered words that left her lips. He threw his head back even further and opened his mouth wider, as if to scream, but he scrunched his nose instead and pulled desperately at the hair on his scalp. She began stroking his hand with her thumb again, her fingers stained with the blood that was quickly seeping into the rug.

"The princess was very lonely in her beautiful castle. But one day, a young man came to visit her."

"It hurts so badly—"

"Shh, breathe. The young man was very handsome, and he had come to rescue the princess."

"Wait, wait," he croaked. He was barely able to speak. "What was he rescuing her from?"

"I suppose he was rescuing her from her sadness," she replied. "Her sadness and her loneliness. Because she was very sad and very lonely."

The needle went through his skin a tenth time, and he clenched his teeth and groaned more loudly, a deep and suffering groan. She wiped her wet forehead on the back of her hand and closed her eyes for a moment, waited until her breathing returned to a steady rhythm. Then she pulled the needle up again and watched the gash continue to close. She was beginning to see much less red.

"Keep going."

"The young man came, and he climbed all the way up to the princess's tower."

She was almost done.

"And when the princess saw the young man, she grew very relieved. He told her that he had come to make her happy and rescue her from her loneliness. The young man grabbed the princess's hand and led her out of the castle."

He was silent now, but his body swayed back and forth and his face was very pale. She had finished, and with her small white teeth, she bit off the end of the string and closed the gash completely.

"And together they explored the entire world."

She leaned forward and put her hands at his neck, then watched him lower his head and slowly lift his drooping eyelids. A small, discreet smile tugged at the corners of his lips as she put the back of her hand against his forehead and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Is it done?"

"It's done."

"Thank you."

"Please don't thank me," she smiled. Her hand was on his cheek. He let his head fall against it and closed his eyes. "Just be more careful."

"I'll try."

His voice was fading, and his shoulders slumped forward. Shadows continued to play along the lines of his face, dancing and shimmering and making her lean in closer to him. He sat, half-asleep and drunk with pain, as she ran her fingers through his hair and wiped the tears from his sticky skin. The candles were beginning to flicker out, one by one, and fill the room with the smell of melting wax.

"Come sleep in the bed," she whispered.

He nodded as if he understood, but with his quiet breathing and his bare chest and his closed eyes, he lay down there on the floor and put his head in her lap. She suddenly didn't mind that the candles were going out, because her entire body at that moment felt an immense wave of warmth overcome it. She bent down and placed her lips on his forehead, then sat in her beautiful environment of warmth and watched the last candle die.


End file.
